Perspective
by sirensbane
Summary: Badly injured in Lior, Ed discovers that he still has a lot to learn.


His blood sprinkled the sand.

His once white gloves were now stained red, hand clenched tightly over the gaping tear in his side. Despite his efforts, he could feel blood trickling through his fingers. The sand whirling past him ground into the wound, each grain a stabbing blade, drawing forth an involuntary whimper with each faltering step.

He fell. He felt the sand grind deeper as his body was roughly shoved against it and he cried out in pain, the noise hastily stifled. But it was unlikely that anyone would hear him; the sound of the wind and distant gunfire was too deafening. He lay there for a moment, too weak and dizzy to rise. The blood continued to stain the sand.

The knowledge struck him that he might be about to die. A pang of regret, sharper than the pain, sliced through him.

_Al…_

Shaking, Edward Elric dragged himself upright once again. He couldn't die. He had to get back to Al.

Somehow.

The sandstorm was intensifying. He kept walking, supporting himself using the walls of the buildings around him. If he didn't find shelter soon, it was over. But there was nowhere to rest here, nowhere where he would not be recognized as the Fullmetal Alchemist. Anyone he encountered might very well try and finish the job the knifeman had begun.

But soon, he wouldn't have much of a choice.

A building loomed up ahead of him. Fear of discovery was countered by the knowledge that he couldn't go on much longer. What did he have to lose? He staggered towards it. Lifting his free hand, he rapped weakly on the door.

No one came.

He rapped again, harder. Still nothing.

His knees buckled, and he collapsed against the door. He tried to get up, to go on, fell back.

_Al… _

At that moment, the door abruptly opened, and Ed pitched forward into the darkness of the building within. He heard footsteps, then the sound of someone's voice, but the words seemed strangely far away. He no longer had the strength to stand. Whatever happened now, he was helpless to resist it.

Ed gave up trying to fight the darkness and let it pull him down.

* * *

When he woke, all was quiet. No howling wind, no sound of gunfire.

_What…Where am I?_

He was lying on something soft. His shirt was missing, and his side ached.

"Oh, so you're awake?" An old man came into view, carrying a tray.

Memories came rushing back. Ed's eyes widened and he started to sit up. A sharp pain lanced through his side, and a surprisingly strong hand pushed him back down.

"Easy, Son, I won't hurt you. If you try and get up, you'll just hurt yourself more. Easy…"

Ed lay back, but he continued to watch the old man warily. The man set the tray down on a table beside the bed and pulled up a stool.

"W…water?" Ed tried. His throat felt raw.

A cup was lifted to his lips and he gulped it down gratefully.

"I thought you might not survive the night," the old man added, once Ed had finally had enough. "But God seems to be watching over you."

Ed stiffened. "I don't believe in God," he said before he could stop himself.

"A pity," the old man said mildly. "Because He certainly believes in you."

Ed was silent, not wanting to offend this man who didn't appear to be trying to kill him. Besides, his side was hurting again, and he knew that he didn't have the strength to mount a successful defense. He had to be careful.

Gentle fingers prodded the black cloth-nothing more than strips torn from an old shirt- covering his side. "Let me take a look at this."

Ed lay still and allowed the man to unwrap the bandage. The old man muttered something under his breath and prodded the wound gently. "I didn't want to stitch it until I was sure all the sand was out," he said, reaching for the bowl and cloth lying on the tray. "But it looks like one more cleaning and it'll be ready to fix up properly." He dipped the cloth into the bowl and dabbed it over the tear. Ed winced.

"I'm sorry," the man said. "But it has to be done, or it won't heal."

"I still don't know who you are," Ed said, after several long moments of watching the man work.

"My apologies," the man said, stopping his ministrations for a moment and glancing up with a smile. "I am Father Aidan."

"A priest?" Ed asked. The introduction did nothing to release his tension. Memories of Cornello were flashing through his head. _He started this mess._

Father Aidan sighed. "Yes. A priest." He stood up, carrying the cloth and bowl of water. "Please lie still while I fetch my needle."

As he disappeared from view, Ed looked around the room. He was lying on a small cot. It seemed to be one of the few intact items in the room. He could see a few books stacked in the corner of the room, and a few tins of food on the shelves nearby, but little else. The whole place looked like it had seen some hard times.

"I must say," Father Aidan said, reappearing in the door, carrying some needle and thread. "I didn't expect to see the Fullmetal Alchemist showing up on my doorstep."

Ed stiffened again, but before he could move, Aidan lifted a placating hand. "I promised I wouldn't hurt you, and I won't. You're as safe here as you would be anywhere these days."

"If you know who I am, why are you helping me?" Ed demanded. Ignoring the old man's advice, he sat up. If the man knew who he was, then Ed was in even more danger than before. He couldn't trust Aidan, no matter how friendly the man might outwardly appear. Cornello's face rose up before him.

"God asks us to love all who come to us," Aidan said serenely. He threaded the needle. "I am only doing what any true follower should do."

Ed gave a bitter laugh. "It's been my experience that people who believe in God go around judging others and starting wars. Is that your idea of love?"

Aidan's eyes were sad. "It's true. There are many who twist our Lord's teachings and call it truth."

Ed stared at him. This man certainly seemed different from Cornello. But Ed still didn't trust him. This was Lior; a war zone created by a man using religion and superstitious fear to control the masses.

"It's especially horrible because it turns others away from God," the priest said sadly.

"What good has God ever brought to anybody?" Ed said. "He just takes and takes. What has he ever given in return?"

"Everything," the old man said enigmatically. "Now please hold still while I stitch this closed."

Ed winced as the needle pierced his skin, but made no sound. Instead, he just sat and stared at Aidan. He wasn't sure what to make of this old man, and he was uncomfortable with all this talk of God.

"Are you hungry?" Aidan asked, after he had finished stitching the wound. Before Ed could reply, his stomach rumbled.

The priest laughed. "I'll take that as a yes." He disappeared again and came back again, this time carrying a tin of beans and a small loaf of bread. He helped prop Ed up against the wall.

"Wait," he said, as Ed made to reach for the food. He closed his eyes. "Thank you Lord for this food, and for giving me the means to provide for others. Keep me faithful to your teachings and never let me be parted from You." He opened his eyes again and smiled. "Go on, eat."

Ed spooned some beans into his mouth. After days of surviving on little or nothing, the food tasted delicious. He tore off a piece of the bread and wolfed it down, and had started to reach for the beans again when he noticed that Father Aidan wasn't eating.

"Aren't you going to have some?" he asked.

Aidan waved his hand. "No, Son, I'm not hungry."

Ed's eyes darted to the dingy room, and to the tiny stash of food stacked carefully on the shelves, and felt sick. He pushed the beans away.

"No," Father Aidan said gently, pushing the tin back towards him. "You eat. You need to recover your strength."

When Ed still hesitated, Aidan gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine. Truly."

Ed wavered, but the smell of the food was too tempting. Reluctantly, he started to eat again.

Father Aidan smiled and rose. "When you're done, just put the tin on the bedside table. Then try and rest. I'll watch over you."

Ed was exhausted. Even this relatively small amount of activity had sapped his strength, and he was again brought face to face with the uncomfortable realization of how close he had been to death. He put the tin down and lay back. He meant to stay awake, to stay wary, but before he knew it, he found his eyes closing.

He was asleep.

* * *

He awoke to the sounds of voices. He tensed immediately. Wincing at the movement, he sat up, his automail hand clenching into a fist. The voices stopped.

A moment later, Father Aidan appeared in the door. "Good morning, Edward."

"Who was here?" Ed demanded. He was shaking, partly out of nerves and partly out of some strange sense of betrayal.

"Some of the people of Lior came seeking guidance," Aidan said. If he was lying, Ed couldn't tell. "They were in need of prayer. Do not fear; I did not tell them of you."

"Why didn't they just pray in their own homes?" Ed challenged. "Why come to you?"

"Many here have forgotten how to pray," Aidan said seriously. "Cornello warped faith in Lior into something unrecognizable."

"You don't support Cornello?" Ed asked, surprised. "But he followed your god."

"No." Aidan said flatly. "Whatever Cornello followed, it wasn't God." Then he forced a smile. "But this is too serious talk for waking. Are you hungry?"

Ed was, but he thought of the limited supply of food and shook his head. "Not really."

Aidan let it go. "Let me check your stitches and then you can go back to sleep."

"I'm not sleepy," Ed said, but lifted his arm to allow Father Aidan easier access to his side. The priest examined the stitches closely.

"There appears to be no infection," he said after a moment. "You lost a lot of blood, but you seem to be healing well." He leaned back. "A few more days and you should be ready to move on."

"A few more days?" Ed said. "I can't wait a few more days! I have to get…" He trailed off.

Father Aidan said nothing, just looked at him.

"I have to get to Al," Ed finished in a whisper.

"Your brother?" Wordlessly, Ed nodded.

"Is there a way that I can get a message to him to tell him what has happened to you?" Father Aidan asked.

"He's outside the city," Ed said. "Hidden."

"If you want me to," Aidan said softly. "I can."

Ed hesitated. But something, something he could not properly identify, wanted him to trust this man. "He's two miles south of Lior. In the dunes."

"I will find him." Father Aidan was almost out the door when Ed thought to ask a question.

"Wait a minute! How are you going to get a messenger past all the fighting?"

Aidan smiled mischievously. "Nothing is impossible for God."

* * *

When he woke again, there was a loaf of bread and more beans waiting for him.

* * *

He was beginning to get tired of sleeping. He had no clear concept of how long he had been here, but he was beginning to worry about Al. Had Father Aidan's message gotten through? Al must be worried sick. And what about Mustang? He had sent Ed to this hellhole; did he even care that his subordinate had so far failed to come out?

He wandered through the house, but there was little to interest him. Out of curiosity, he opened one of the books.

"_In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth…"_

He closed it again.

* * *

When he woke up again, Father Aidan was sitting beside him. His eyes were closed, but when Ed sat up, he opened them and smiled. "You're awake."

"I'm tired of sleeping." Even to his own ears, he sounded petulant.

"Yes, I suspect you are." The man's eyes twinkled knowingly.

"Did you talk to Al?" Ed asked.

Aidan nodded. "Yes, I did. He is very concerned for you."

Ed bowed his head to hide his tears. "Stupid hunk of metal," he muttered.

The smile faded. "Edward, can you satisfy an old man's curiosity?"

Ed nodded. "I'll do my best."

"What happened to you?"

"What do you mean?" Ed asked, confused. "You mean, how did I get hurt? There was this guy with a knife…"

Aidan waved his hand. "No, I mean…I mean, what happened to your arm and leg?" He gestured at Ed's automail arm. "What happened to Al?"

Ed was silent for a long time. In the end, he was surprised to hear himself say quietly, "We tried to resurrect our mother."

"Oh." Father Aidan sat back. He didn't speak for a full minute. When he spoke again, Ed thought that he might just be talking to himself. "That explains a great deal."

"Like what?" Ed shot back. "I lost my arm and leg, and Al lost his body. What else could that possibly explain?"

"What did you try and trade for the soul?" Aidan asked quietly.

"It didn't work," Ed muttered bitterly. "There wasn't enough. To gain, you have to give, but all we did was give! It didn't even bring her back!" His shoulders were shaking, but he refused to cry in front of Aidan. "What kind of a god would take her away from us?" he asked. He clenched his fists. "Where's the justice and goodness in that?"

"Edward," Aidan said. "I know this will just be cold comfort, but if there's one thing I've learned in my life, it's that God always has a reason. He always brings good out of evil."

"Then what was the reason?" Ed demanded. "Tell me, old man! What was the reason she had to die?" Tears were now streaming down his cheeks, and he brushed them away angrily.

"I don't know," Aidan said. "I'm not God."

"Why do you believe this crap?" Ed spat. "That God is good and benevolent; that's he's even _there._ What proof do you have for any of it?"

"Faith."

"Faith," Ed repeated disdainfully. "That's not proof of anything."

"Faith is not a science, Edward. It's a choice."

"A choice to wander blindly off a cliff and give in to superstition."

"A choice to love." Before Ed could reply, Aidan continued. "Did you love your mother?"

"Of course. What kind of a question is that?"

"And did she love you?"

"Of course she did. We were her world!"

"And do you love your brother?"

"More than anything."

At this, Father Aidan smiled. "Then you are closer to God than you think."

For once, Ed had no reply.

Father Aidan reached out, and before Ed could move away, he gently pulled Ed into a hug.

"You _will _see your mother again," he whispered.

Ed stiffened for a moment, and then let the tears come. Sitting there in Aidan's arms, for the first time in his life, Ed wanted desperately to be wrong.

* * *

"The soldiers are here."

Ed shifted, but did not wake. Father Aidan prodded him again. "Edward."

"What?"

"The soldiers are here in Lior."

"What?" This time, Ed sat up. "Now?"

"Yes. They are looking for you."

"Where are they?" Ed demanded, swinging his legs out of bed and pulling on a shirt. It had been nearly a week since he first arrived at Father Aidan's house. He had been walking back and forth to avoid muscle atrophy, and his side barely hurt at all. The stitches had only come out the night before.

"About five blocks east of here."

"I have to go."

"I know."

They looked at each other. "Thanks," Ed said awkwardly. "For saving me and everything."

"No thanks is needed."

"I wish…" Ed stopped.

Aidan picked up a wrapped package from the table. "Take this with you. Don't open it until you're outside the city."

Ed took the package. "Thanks…"

In the distance came the sound of gunfire.

"Be safe," Father Aidan whispered. "May God go with you."

"You know I don't believe…"

"I know," Aidan interrupted. "But may He go with you anyway."

Ed put his hand on the door. Outside, he knew, there were soldiers. There was Al, and Mustang, and the Philosopher's Stone. His old life. The world of science. Here, there was an old man who had been kind to him, who had saved his life despite all expectations, and who had asked nothing in return.

The world of faith.

Ed opened the door. He had not gone two paces when he stopped and looked back.

Father Aidan was standing in the door. "Peace be with you."

Ed's throat felt tight, and he turned away.

* * *

"Fullmetal!" Mustang barked, failing to quite hide the relief he felt at seeing Ed alive. "Where have you been?"

"Around," the boy said vaguely.

There was something strange about Ed's tone, but Mustang dismissed it. He'd deal with it later, when he wasn't in the middle of a war zone. "We got what we came for. Now let's move out!"

Ed followed without a word.

That night, he unwrapped the gift Father Aidan had given him.

Stared at it.

"You don't give up, do you?" he murmured to the breeze, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Opened it.

"_In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth…"_


End file.
